


Whumptober 2020 01 Let's Hang Out Sometime

by frankie_mcstein



Series: Whumptober 2020 [1]
Category: Magnum P.I. (TV 2018)
Genre: Gen, Insomnia, Nightmares, Some Fluff, Whumptober 2020, car crash, migraines, mild whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-01
Updated: 2020-10-01
Packaged: 2021-03-07 23:48:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,552
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26746171
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/frankie_mcstein/pseuds/frankie_mcstein
Summary: Whumptober 2020 Prompt 1- Let's Hang Out SometimeThree times Magnum and Higgins hang out together. One time she gets him to sleep, one time he gets her to sleep, and one time they both fall asleep.
Relationships: Juliet Higgins & Thomas Sullivan Magnum IV
Series: Whumptober 2020 [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1947172
Comments: 32
Kudos: 65





	Whumptober 2020 01 Let's Hang Out Sometime

**Author's Note:**

> The whump here is pretty mild, especially by my usual standards, but it does exist. There is also fluff, because I cannot whump my babbies, even a little, without throwing fluff at them afterwards to make up for it.

Let’s Hang Out Sometime

  
  


The First Time

  
  


Magnum was tired. Not the sort of tired that makes you yawn in the middle of a conversation or struggle to keep your eyes open during the ad breaks through your favorite show; that would be easy to deal with. This was the sort of tired that makes your head ache and your hands tremble and your vision blur. He'd almost gotten used to it when they were all being held in the camp. They'd been kept awake for days at a time, kept short on sleep the entire time they were there, and it was either learn how to deal or go mad. 

But this was Ohau. This was peace and quiet and lazy days and ohana, and this was not meant to be happening now. He wasn't meant to be lying awake at night with his mind totally blank and his eyes wide open. He wasn't meant to be slumped on the couch during the day with his body aching with the need for sleep. He wasn't meant to be snapping at his friends as the sleeplessness left him irritable and on edge.

He was meant to be working most of the day. Working out when he felt like it. Enjoying life. Surrounding himself with his brothers and winding up their newly acquired sister. Luxuriating in the knowledge that they were free and safe. Taking in the sun and swimming in the ocean. 

But yesterday, fighting to keep his eyes open and feeling like ants were crawling beneath his skin, he had made the awful choice to go for a drive in the hopes that it would help him unwind a little. The combination of wind and sun had ended up making him squint, even with his aviators on, and he had started to feel worse rather than better.

Stopping at a red light had given him the chance to take his sunglasses off and rub his eyes, trying to get rid of the gritty feeling. The car behind him had honked as the light turned green without Magnum noticing. He'd dropped the shades, hit the gas, and the car lurched forward. The van in the next lane, signaling to change lanes, had taken Magnum’s slowness as a sign to go ahead and merge and had already pulled in front of him. Magnum hit the brakes, but it was too late, and the front of the Ferrari plowed into the back corner of the van.

The relatively low speed had kept from causing too much damage to either vehicle. Until the impatient driver behind Magnum, heavy-footed on the gas in their rush to get through the light, had driven into the back of the Ferrari. The poor car had been slammed forward, but, with its nose already jammed up against the van, there hadn't been anywhere for it to go. The resulting impact had damaged the van's sliding door beyond repair and activated the Ferrari's airbags.

Magnum had been letting his head hang forward slightly, partly because the ache behind his eyes had been exacerbated by the jolt of the initial impact and partly because he was too flat-out embarrassed to make eye contact with the driver of the van. So the airbag had caught him full in the face, throwing his head back to the headrest and drawing an actual yelp out of him.

His friends had been worried when they’d come piling into his hospital room, talking amongst themselves about insomnia and sleep deprivation and reaction times. It had taken them a while to realize Magnum wasn’t even trying to follow the conversation.

“Is there anything we can do to help, Thomas?” Higgins using his first name was almost always a cause for celebration, a reminder, small but obvious, that the ‘I can barely tolerate you’ act she usually put on was just that, an act. But Magnum had been so tired his body felt heavy, and the pulled muscles from the whiplash had just served to compound the problem.

“I just need to sleep,” he’d said, the words feeling slow as he said them. He’d listened to Rick and talked to his doctor when she’d come around. She’d offered sleeping tablets, but he was reluctant to take them. As awful as he felt, as much as a good night’s sleep would help, he was worried that taking tablets to knock himself out would just mask the issue rather than solve it. And, yes, some small part of him argued that, as bad as he felt now, tomorrow he might feel worse, and there was no point in taking tablets when he didn't really need them in case they stopped working when he did need them.

But just that morning, he had picked a fight with Higgins. Had actually come  _ this close _ to throwing Richard's death at her. And all she had done was offer to make him another cup of coffee after he'd dropped his, his hand randomly deciding it was too tired to be a hand anymore, thank you very much. She had helped him clean up the mess, told him off when he had cut his hand on a shard of his shattered mug, and, not five minutes later, had been staring at him in shock. She had known what he was going to say; he had seen it on her face. And he had turned and fled, not trusting his mouth not to say something his head and heart would regret.

And now he was sitting on the couch, his hand throbbing, his eyes itching, and his head spinning slightly. He just needed sleep, he knew it. Just a few hours. Just one night where he didn’t lie awake, tossing and turning, trying every trick in the book to get his brain to shut itself off. When he was two days into Hell Week, he had figured out the old trick of falling asleep in less than a minute by consciously relaxing every muscle one group at a time. It had worked every time he had needed it since, during assignments, during his time in the camp, during the interminable hospital stays that followed. But this time, for whatever reason, it wasn’t helping.

He had tried meditation, something an old girlfriend had once recommended. He had tried hot milk, something Rick had once extolled the benefits of. Kumu had offered herbal supplements that had left him feeling slightly sick, and T.C. had suggested lukewarm whiskey, but that had left him feeling lightheaded.

He sighed heavily, groaning a little at the way the lack of sleep was messing with his head. He was quite melodramatically convinced that Higgins would never talk to him again, knew he was being ridiculous, and also knew there was no way to convince himself that he was being absurd without talking to Higgins. And he didn’t want to do that for fear of what his exhaustion might make him say.

So he wasn't thrilled when he heard light footsteps heading his way. 

_ 'Just say you're sorry and then keep your mouth shut,' _ he coached himself, desperate to avoid hurting the woman who was lowering herself to the couch beside him. He opened his mouth, ready to rattle off the apology he thought she was there to hear.

"Thomas." Her voice was so soft, so full of concern, he let the words die on his lips. "You need to sleep." 

He wanted to be angry with her. To shout at her that he  _ knew _ he needed to sleep. That he  _ wanted _ to sleep. That he didn't know why his brain wouldn't let him and couldn't she see it was driving him crazy? But he looked at her, her face open and warm and so worried, and he sighed instead.

"I just  _ can't." _ He could hear the strain in his own voice; the pain from the constant headache, the throbbing aches in his muscles, the roll of exhausted nausea, all combining to make him sound pathetic. But, to his surprise, Higgins wasn't looking at him with pity. Her expression seemed more like understanding. He furrowed his brow a little, hoping she would understand his unspoken question, and she gave him a sad smile.

"After I was disavowed, I spent months not sleeping. Napping, obviously. Sometimes even for as long as an hour. And, every so often, I would just… drop. It was less like sleeping and more like passing out. To this day I don't know if it was some sort of reaction to everything I had been through or just… bad timing." She shrugged as she said it, offering a small smile as if trying to make up for the lack of explanation.

He felt the cushion shift as she moved closer to him, close enough that he could feel the warmth of her skin through his shirt. He didn't even realize his body was leaning toward her, moving of its own volition, until his head was on her shoulder and her arm was wrapped around him. He thought he should probably move. At the very least, he thought he should definitely move his hand from her thigh where it had landed when he'd shifted to get comfortable. But, and it was a big but, he  _ was _ comfortable. 

"I came up with a trick," she was saying, her fingers rubbing lightly at the back of his neck, small circles that were drawing out the tension that had been tugging at the muscles there. "Instead of trying to empty my mind like so many people recommend, I thought of something boring." 

Magnum wanted to roll his eyes, maybe shake his head a little, give a tiny scoff. If he'd had the slightest bit of energy, he'd have lifted his head and done it. But the ache in his head was starting to fade, the counterpressure of Higgins' shoulder against his temple proving more effective than any of the painkillers he'd taken.

"Did you know, for example, that in the hierarchy of British aristocratic society, every peer of the realm below a Duke is addressed as 'Lord,' regardless of their actual title?"

Her tone of voice made it pretty clear Higgins wasn't expecting any sort of answer. Which was good, because, while Magnum absolutely hadn't known that, he really wasn't sure what reply he could offer. Especially because talking would mean moving his head and he really didn't think he wanted to do that right then. He did offer a hum, hoping Higgins would consider it adequate and keep talking with her voice quiet and smooth.

And that she would just keep her hand on his neck, rubbing with  _ just _ the right amount of pressure that he could feel every muscle in his body starting to unwind.

And that she would keep breathing deeply enough for him to feel her body shifting and let his lungs mimic the rhythm.

"Or that a Duke or Duchess, given their proximity to the throne, is always to be addressed by their title as a sign of respect for the crown?"

Magnum didn't even try to hum. He was warm and so comfortable, and his body was finally giving up on aching and his head had stopped pounding and a feeling of drowsiness swept through him without him even realizing.

"Be that as it may, since the passing of the Life Peerage Act of nineteen fifty-eight…" Whatever the act was or what it had meant for the British aristocracy was something Magnum would never know. He was fast asleep before Higgins could finish the sentence.

…

The Second Time

  
  


Magnum grinned at the envelope in his hand as he headed back over to the Ferrari. He’d always hoped that he would eventually become the sort of P.I. who had periods of time when he couldn’t even stop to catch his breath. This last week had been one of those times. A sudden influx of clients thanks to a grateful garage owner had seen his cell jammed with calls, and he had spent the last six days crisscrossing the island. He had just closed the last of the new cases and sent a young couple off to a hopefully happy life together and was already anticipating the hours of blissful sleep he would get when he got back to Robin’s Nest.

As he rounded the corner and the car came into view, he opened the envelope and pulled out half the bills from inside. If he hadn’t been able to talk Higgins into helping out he would never have been able to take on all the cases that had just come his way and he knew it. He wasn’t going to argue about giving her fifty percent, not even for a joke. Although, as he got closer, he could see her eyes were closed and her head was resting heavily on her bent hand. It looked as though she had gotten a headstart on the sleep he was so looking forward to catching up on.

Dropping every technological issue on her shoulders had freed him up to do the legwork but it had led to her spending far too long hunched over her laptop. That morning, he had caught her napping at her desk in the study, and he hadn’t been at all convinced by her assertions that she hadn't stayed up all night and that she had just been resting her eyes. In fact, now that he thought about it, he wondered if she hadn’t stayed up the night before too. It would certainly go some way toward explaining how she had managed to pull off so much computer wizardry in such a short amount of time.

He slipped the money into his pocket, unwilling to wake her up, only to see her head turn toward him as he pulled open the driver's side door.

“Sorry,” he offered as he slid into the seat. “I didn’t mean to disturb you.”

“I wasn’t sleeping.” Her voice was flat, almost toneless, and Magnum narrowed his eyes as he studied her carefully. She was paler than normal, with purple smudges under her eyes that her makeup couldn’t hide. Or maybe she hadn’t bothered putting makeup on. He was never sure. He nodded, flicking his eyebrows at her as if to say ‘okay, have it your way,’ before digging the cash from his pocket and holding it out to her.

“Your cut.” He couldn’t help but notice the way her hand shook as she reached out. It was the slightest tremor, he’d have missed it if he hadn’t been looking for it, but it spoke of skipped sleep and exhaustion, and he instantly felt awful for exaggerating the importance of his cases to guilt her into helping. Which wasn’t to say that there hadn’t been any need for urgency. Noe’s husband would have gotten away with massive financial fraud if it weren’t for them. And Kana would have lost access to his kids if they hadn’t been able to find proof that his ex was lying about his drinking. But still, they could have taken a little more time. Magnum’s own need to fix everything for his clients had driven him to push on at breakneck speed, and he realized now Higgins had been caught up in his wake.

He made up his mind that he needed to stop dragging his friends into his cases and swore to himself that he wasn’t going to ask for anything from any of them again. Unless he really needed their help. Life or death situations. Maybe extreme danger. Possibly if it would make his life a full one hundred percent easier. While he was trying to assure himself that he would never ask his friends for anything again, unless it would make his life a good sixty percent easier, Magnum started the engine and pulled off. Whether Higgins was willing to admit it or not, they both needed some sleep and he was anxious to get back to the guest house and forget about the rest of the world for a while.

So he frowned when he noticed Higgins wince for the third time in as many minutes. He made a point of staring straight ahead at the road and out of the corner of his eye he saw her hand come up to rub at the bridge of her nose. Again. He couldn’t write off the rest of the world until he was in bed, and he wasn’t the sort of person who could ignore a friend in need anyway.

“We can stop at a drugstore if you like?” He glanced over to see her raised eyebrow. "C'mon, Higgins. You have a headache. There's a store two streets down; we can pick up some painkillers." He kept his voice light, knowing she would argue just for the sake of being contrary if she thought for even a moment he was being condescending. 

"I don't need to go to a shop. But thank you." She sounded genuinely grateful, her voice quiet, and he decided to risk pushing. The worst that could happen was they finish the drive back in silence. And it wouldn't be the first time they had ignored each other for an indefinite period.

"You get headaches a lot when you don't sleep?"

She opened her mouth but whatever answer she was going to give was lost when she ended up yawning instead. There was a heavy silence for a second, Magnum fighting valiantly against the laugh that was bubbling inside him. Then Higgins gave a snort of laughter and offered him a rueful sort of grin.

"I suppose I am tired," she allowed. "But no, it doesn't usually give me a headache." She openly rubbed her forehead, as if expressing her displeasure with this odd turn of affairs.

"Hey, take a nap. A moving car is a great place to sleep." That earned him another huff of laughter.

"It's too bright out here." It was pretty bright, even by Hawaii's usual standards. A storm off the coast had wreaked havoc on the island's weather patterns. Magnum tugged off his aviators and held them out, glancing over when Higgins didn't take them. 

"You need those to drive, Magnum." She was using her 'I'm trying my best to be patient with your nonsense' voice, which hardly seemed fair, given that he was just trying to help.

"I'm fine. You're the one who's in pain. So take the shades." After another second, he added, "I'm not going to put them back on so you might as well."

She tutted but did take the shades, slipping them on and letting her head drop back against the headrest. Over the next few minutes, Magnum watched as surreptitiously as he could as the tension slowly left Higgins' shoulders. He debated putting the roof up but decided she would probably rouse herself to argue with him about it.

As soon as he was reasonably sure she was asleep, he dropped his speed a little and took a left instead of a right. Sure, the Ferrari burned gas almost quicker than he could replace it, and it was going to cost him a fortune to take a scenic route back to Robin's Nest, but Higgins was worth it. Besides, he could always ask her to pay him back for the gas. He happened to know for a fact she could afford it at the moment.

…

The Third Time

  
  


_ Move. Keep moving. Cold. One arm. Kick. Kick. Breathe. So tired. Keep moving. Head up. Legs sinking. No. Keep moving. Kick. Arm. Pain. Pain pain painpainpain. Breathe. Keep moving. Legs sinking. Keep moving. So cold. Pain. Move. Can't. Can't. Cold. Dark. Pain. Dark. _

Higgins woke with a scream, arms and legs flailing as her body fought to escape the water it had dreamt it was back in. She could feel it. She could taste it. It was all around her, flowing into her mouth, rushing down her throat, flooding into her lungs. She shivered at the remembered cold even as warm tears trickled down her cheeks and her arm burned at the movement as it pulled on the bullet wound.

She forced herself to lie still and focus on calming her breathing. 

_ 'You can breathe,'  _ she told herself.  _ 'Magnum saved you. You're fine.' _ She didn't feel fine though. Her heart was racing, her legs kept trying to kick as the adrenaline kept telling her instincts there was danger, and her arm was throbbing. 

A glance at the clock told her it was too early to take more painkillers. She wasn't a huge fan of the way they seemed to slow her thoughts down anyway; she had half a mind to blame them for the nightmare instead of the stress of the previous day.

Whatever the reason, it didn't look like she was going to be getting back to sleep any time soon. Moving slowly, feeling the ache of overexertion in every muscle, she stood from the bed and grabbed a thick dressing gown from her wardrobe. She hadn't worn it since leaving the UK. Her body appreciated the warmth, snuggling almost reflexively into it, trying to cast aside the memory of sinking down into the ocean, gasping for breath and getting nothing but water.

She shivered again as the feeling hit her full force and nearly fell as her knees buckled. She stood still, just breathing, assuring herself that this, standing in her bedroom, was real. That the memory was just that, a memory. That she wasn't still in the ocean, bleeding and sinking. Then she made her way out of the room and down the stairs, heading for the kitchen. A hot drink sounded just about perfect.

She had no way of knowing that, just a short walk away, in his bedroom in the guest house, Magnum was shifting anxiously on his bed. Sleep had eluded him for a long while, and, when it finally came, it had proven less than restful.

_ We're so close now. Just keep going. Higgins. Gotta help Higgins. Swim ahead. Check for currents. Swim back. Higgins needs help. She can do this. She just needs help. Where is she? No noise. Turn back. She's sinking! Move! Move faster! Where was she? Where did she go down? Swim. Take a breath. Dive. Where is she? Surface. Breathe. Three strokes. Take a breath. Dive. Where is she? Where is she? Surface and breathe. Move farther. Too far. You must have gone too far. Where is she? Higgins! I can't lose her! Where is she? _

Magnum woke with a yell that sounded a lot like 'Juliet!' ringing in his ears. His arms were stretched out, reaching for something too far away for his fingers to touch. His heart was racing and his chest heaving as he struggled against the remembered panic. He'd been so close to losing her forever.

Another few strokes ahead of her, another few seconds before he'd realized she wasn't still moving behind him, and he might not have been able to bring her back. Because that's what he did. She had been dead. Not breathing, no pulse. Gone. And he had brought her back.

_ 'She's fast asleep right now,' _ he told himself.  _ 'You got her back and she's fine.' _ That wasn't entirely true; the bullet wound in her arm would take a while to heal. And they were both going to be suffering from their strained muscles for a few days. And that wasn’t even touching on the emotional fallout. He was clearly feeling the strain, and he wasn’t the one who had been violently confronted with his own mortality.

But Higgins was alive. He just had to keep telling himself that. And wait for his breathing to slow down. He almost felt cold, his mind clinging to the memory of watching Higgins slip beneath the surface of the ocean. He shook his head, trying to shake away the image, but it stayed where it was. He grabbed his phone and groaned at the time it displayed but rolled out of bed anyway. He wasn't getting back to sleep anytime soon. 

He thought about putting on his workout gear, just for the convenience, but his body complained at the thought of a shirt and shorts, insisting it needed warmth. So he dug out a pair of pajamas he hadn't worn since settling on Oahu, long pants and a thick shirt, and headed toward the kitchen. A hot drink sounded just about perfect.

He stood by the window as he waited for the coffee maker to finish brewing. If he tilted his head, he could just see the back windows of the main house, and it looked as though one of the lights was on. He was frowning as he tried to remember which window it was and, just as his coffee maker beeped to tell him his lovely caffeine was ready, his tired brain remembered it was the kitchen.

That was odd. It was stupid o’clock in the morning and, if he was exhausted, Higgins must be totally drained. What was she doing up? Had she just forgotten to turn the light out before she went up to bed? He had made a point of dragging his feet, hanging around for a few minutes after she said goodnight, in case she needed help. He was pretty sure that the lights had been out when he had finally left the house earlier. So maybe Kumu had come back? But she was supposed to be babysitting her newest great-nephew, something both he and Higgins had insisted she not interrupt on their behalf. And, even if she had come back, she wouldn’t be hanging around in the kitchen at this time of the morning.

Magnum sighed heavily as his body begged him to go back to bed and his mind screamed at him that this was a mystery that needed solving. It could well be that Higgins was up because she needed help. If her arm had started bleeding again while she was asleep, she may have passed out on her way to getting a fresh bandage. She could be bleeding out while he was standing in a stupor in his kitchen.

Okay, that was melodramatic and more than a little absurd. But he really had come so close to losing her, and the vestiges of that panic were still swimming through his system. So he ignored his coffee and moved to the door, heading to the main house without even really thinking about what he was doing or what he was going to do when he got there. If Higgins did need something, painkillers or help rewrapping her arm or a ride to the hospital-  _ ‘Stop it, Thomas,’  _ his mind instructed firmly- then fine, he would help with whatever she needed. 

_ ‘But what if she just wanted a drink? How will an ex-spy who may or may not have been an assassin react if you just go strolling into her house right now?’  _ His mind was happy to offer a selection of ways Higgins might use to dispose of his body after killing him for startling her. Lye. Dismemberment. Staged car crash. It took an act of sheer will for him to shake the image of Higgins standing at the top of a hill, framed by smoke and highlighted by the flickering light of a raging fire as the Ferrari burned merrily at her feet.

He shook his head to dispel the picture, feeling the pull across his shoulders as a flash of eye-watering pain, and managed a grin at his own ridiculousness; Higgins would never damage Robin’s Ferrari. His own easily damaged body, however… Well, he preferred not to dwell on that. He needed to prove to himself she was still okay so his brain would shut up and leave him to get some more sleep.

...

_ ‘Well, it was a nice idea.’  _ He really wished his mental voice wasn’t so smug sometimes. He’d walked to the window while imagining Higgins murdering him- and that was not a sentence he’d imagined himself saying, especially after saving her life- and he could see her standing by the sink. The water was running, but he wasn’t sure why; she was just staring at the tap, hands resting on the side of the counter. Magnum would be willing to bet any amount of money that she wasn’t seeing the tap or the sink but the ocean.

He really didn’t like the look on her face, far off and distant, with a hint of panic in her eyes. She looked pale, even in the dim light, and, if her fingers weren’t pressing hard against the counter, he was almost certain they’d be shaking. That settled it then. She didn’t need an ambulance or fresh stitches, but she definitely needed help. To be fair, he was pretty sure he would benefit from some human interaction too.

He watched her for a long second, still trying to figure out the best course of action, and saw a tear trickling down her cheek. She didn’t seem to notice, didn’t lift a hand to wipe it away, and Magnum felt fear clutching at him again, but it was tempered by sympathy this time, and he headed for the door.

“Higgy? I saw the light, you up?” He didn’t exactly yell, but he certainly didn’t keep his voice as low as he would if he’d really thought there was a chance she would actually be asleep. He heard a gasp and a sniff and took his time getting into the kitchen. By the time he walked in, the tear was gone, but she still looked pale and, as she turned to face him, he saw he’d been right; her hands were trembling.

“Hey.” He forced a grin to his face and made sure to keep his voice as light as he could. “I’m having so much trouble sleeping.” Serious topic, smiling face; he wanted her to talk about herself, not worry about him. “I was hoping the light meant you were awake, too.”

He walked to the fridge, acutely and uncomfortably aware of her eyes on him, and reached for the leftover pizza that greeted him when he opened the door.

“Magnum?” Oh dear, her voice was shaking as well as her hands. This wasn’t good. Higgins was all about the control and the traditional British stiff upper lip.

He turned, holding a slice of pepperoni pizza in his hand but making no attempt to eat it. He met her gaze, held it, let her see the stress and worry and fear he had been feeling since he had seen her fall off the yacht. They stood like that for a long while, not even blinking, until she suddenly sighed and looked away.

“I uh… keep dreaming that I’m under the surface of the ocean again. And that I can’t move. And you aren’t coming.” She didn’t look at him, like the confession cost her somehow, and he felt a rush of sympathy and protectiveness that nearly floored him.

“I keep seeing you go under. And I keep looking for you, but I can never find you.”

She looked back to him at that, shock on her face, as if she had been expecting anything but understanding. More silence for another long few seconds.

“We’re a right pair, aren’t we?” She tried to laugh, only managed a huff, but it was enough.

_ ‘It’s the thought that counts,’  _ Magnum told himself, relieved that she could even try to laugh. She still looked pale, but that was okay, he still felt shaky. He held out the pizza he was holding, the pizza she had bought.

“After-midnight snack?”

Her smile was worth the eyeroll that accompanied it. He just grinned at her, utterly unrepentant. It softened into a smile when she grabbed two plates from the cupboard, clearly expecting he would join her. To his surprise, she walked to the living room rather than the kitchen table and curled herself up in the corner of the couch, legs tucked under her. She held out her plate and Magnum dropped a slice onto it before putting the box on the coffee table and moving to turn the TV on. He was sure, given the hour, they would find something suitably awful to ignore.

Sure enough, on the third channel he tried, he found angry-looking men throwing threats at each other. One was holding a knife that, for some reason, was glinting even though it was being held in a shadow. The other was waving what looked, at first glance, to be a hand grenade. Upon closer inspection, it was pretty obvious it was a plastic lemon that had been painted black and had a handle jammed in the top of it.

Magnum pretended not to notice how Higgins kept shivering slightly, like she had only just left the ocean. He very carefully didn’t react at all to the way she gradually moved closer until she was resting against his side. He actually didn't notice when she finally fell asleep, just the way her head dropped onto his shoulder.

He did notice how, when he put his arm around her shoulders, she felt warm. And that warmth was all the reassurance he needed that she was okay, that he could sleep too.

**Author's Note:**

> Whumptober again. A lot of the prompts this year were either identical or very similar to prompts from last year which has made it very difficult to try to come up with new plots and, as such, my enthusiasm for my fills is pretty low and the actual amount of whump varies wildly. However, whump is always fun so I'm trying my best.


End file.
